


ways to cheer up your oliver queen

by milkdaze (flowerstems)



Series: jingle bell swing [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 21:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5472077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerstems/pseuds/milkdaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a freak blizzard when Oliver visits Barry, and it's definitely all his fault because he's cursed. Well, that's what he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ways to cheer up your oliver queen

It’s been snowing lightly in Central for a day or two, so when Oliver calls Barry and mentions visiting, Barry’s all too excited to (throw snowballs at him and) meet him halfway. Barry thinks it’ll be fun; he doesn't think the snowfall will go from a light sprinkle to a blizzard within an hour of Oliver’s arrival.

“I swear to God, I’m cursed.” Oliver’s sitting on the couch and brooding, staring pointedly at the decorations and lights sparkling on the Christmas tree, and valiantly ignoring the news report of a freak snowstorm. He’s trying to hide it, but the timing of the blizzard was impeccable and Barry is sure it damaged some part of Oliver’s ego.

Barry checks outside the windows and all he can see is white. “Funny, Iris just called and said the same thing,” Barry says, shoving his phone into his pocket and sitting down beside Oliver. “She just arrived somewhere, too. You both can’t be dragging this blizzard around, can you?”

“You can tell Iris it isn’t her fault, because here I am,” Oliver huffs, gesturing vaguely to himself. Barry nudges Oliver at that, tugging him off the armrest and trailing his fingers along Oliver’s jaw, coaxing him to look away from the lights.

“You brood way too much,” Barry says, a fond smile spreading across his face.

Oliver leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed so briefly his eyelashes fan out against his pale cheeks like the beat of a butterfly’s wing, and Barry is sure he’s the only one who will ever notice. “It’s a gift.”

“But I’m pretty sure you didn’t travel six hundred miles just to brood on a couch, right?” 

Oliver looks at Barry for a long while, gaze unwavering, mouth pressed into a thin line, and Barry almost dares to think Oliver would really travel from one city to another to brood his free time away. Then he sighs and says, “No, I didn’t.”

“All right, then let’s get your mind off the weather.”

 

* * *

 

The best way to get Oliver’s mind off the blizzard is to have him make eggnog, according to Barry.

Barry mixes vanilla and cinnamon into the milk, asking twice for each ingredient if Oliver would like it or not—he justifies it as being considerate, _I don’t know how you take your eggnog_ ; Oliver thinks he’s being a little too considerate, _it’s eggnog, I’m not picky_ —and Oliver whisks the egg yolks and sugar together.

After putting the milk mixture to heat, Barry takes to pestering Oliver because it’s his right as a boyfriend and the first to finish his task. “How long does it take to whisk eggs and sugar together?”

“I don’t know, Barry,” Oliver sighs, cradling the bowl as he mixes the ingredients and eyeing Barry in a way that may be threatening. “Maybe you should try it, I’m sure you’d be so _much_ quicker.”

The only reason Barry asks, “Do you want me to?” is because seeing Oliver riled up while whisking ingredients in a huge bowl is so much more gratifying than seeing him curled up on the couch, brooding and unresponsive. A cranky Oliver is a healthy Oliver, is what Barry has come to believe.

In response to his question, Oliver mixes the ingredients quicker and tucks his chin to his chest, “Do you want to?” 

To which Barry responds by putting a hand on Oliver’s forearm, keeping pace with his movements easily and smiling, broad and mostly teeth. “I’m pretty sure if I did it, your sleeve would catch fire.”

“Gee, Barry, you’re so modest,” Oliver’s mouth is pressed thin again, but it’s slanted in amusement and he doesn’t shake Barry off. “Why don’t you just stick to heating up your mixture instead of imposing on mine?”

What Barry does next is too fast for Oliver to follow, and that’s always a little unnerving because Barry could poke his eyes out, set the apocalypse into motion, or take countless embarrassing pictures of him and Oliver is sure he won’t notice until it’s too late, but the only thing Barry does is pour the hot milk mixture into Oliver’s bowl and say, “Now it’s our mixture.”

At this point, Oliver cannot legally stop Barry from pouring their mixture into the saucepan and heating it up, but he can reclaim his job of stirring the mixture because, “It was my job first. You can strain it and make sure every single clove is separated.” This earns a graceless groan from Barry, but he still smiles and wraps an arm around Oliver’s waist as he awaits the ‘boring task of straining’.

(Oliver doesn’t get why he’s complaining because Barry just pours the hot mixture from one bowl to the next, quickly picking out the cloves and tossing them and Oliver is absolutely sure that’s cheating.)

They’re both leaned against the opposite counter, shoulders brushing as they let the eggnog cool when Barry asks, “Should we refrigerate it, or…?”

“I don’t know,” Oliver shrugs and glances at the bowl, “is it a law to refrigerate it?”

Barry thinks over everything he knows about eggnog, which is only the recipe, then shrugs and rests his head on Oliver’s shoulder. “I don’t know. It might be.”

“I don’t obey laws anyway.” Barry makes a disapproving sound and Oliver chuckles, “You’re really not in a position to argue.”

Grasping for one of Oliver’s wrists, Barry huffs a laugh, “But I still work for the police department.” There are many things Barry wants to follow that up with, things that vaguely involve arrest, which involves handcuffs, and Barry keeps his mouth shut because he witnesses his mind going one direction while the eggnog and Oliver’s main concerns are in another. This is definitely Felicity’s influence, and it’s something Oliver either doesn’t notice or gracefully ignores for the time being.

“We can just drink it,” Oliver’s still as relaxed as he can be, shoulders rising and falling under Barry’s head in the same slow motion, wrist yielding in Barry’s grip, and Barry thinks yes, they should just drink it. “It’s freezing outside, isn’t this the perfect time?”

They’re freaking snowed in, it’s technically the perfect time for many things, from binge watching Netflix to rearranging the furniture and everything in between. So Barry hurriedly mixes in the rum, pours them two glasses, and has them both seated on the couch, drinks in hand, before Oliver realises what happened. “Yes, it is. Cheers, Ollie.”

“Barry, you have to stop doing that.” Oliver says, gaze slightly unfocused, but he clinks his glass against Barry’s anyway, “It makes us normal people dizzy.”

 

* * *

 

Being rushed around by a high-speed superhero isn’t the only thing that makes normal people dizzy, apparently. Barry accidentally mixed far more rum than necessary into the eggnog, and while Oliver isn’t drunk per se, a few glasses later he’s pleasantly buzzed and warm in his skin, and he has stopped brooding altogether. He’s in such a good mood now that he’s been doing nothing but kissing Barry on the couch, warm and slow, legs hooked together and hands roaming idly for the past ten minutes.

This wasn’t the intention, but Barry sure as hell isn’t complaining. (He’s still a little jealous he can’t feel the same buzz, but the happy little sounds Oliver keeps making low in his throat more than make up for it.)

**Author's Note:**

> Olivarry Holiday Weekend-Day1: Snowed In  
> will i ever be able to write something serious? (lol)


End file.
